


Packing Up My Heart

by melomance



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, First Fic!, Fluff and Angst, Grieving and Healing, M/M, Minor Character Death, Strangers to Lovers, but it's not one of the boys i swear, how to tag, this fic might make you hungry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:00:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23625775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melomance/pseuds/melomance
Summary: “You can ask,” Hongjoong speaks up. “I know you’ve been wanting to ask.”Seonghwa chokes on his gulp of beer, watching Hongjoong pop another handful of microwaved popcorn into his mouth. “You— You’d be willing to tell me?” he asks carefully.Hongjoong laughs with no real joy. “It’s been what— a month and a half since you joined our little group? I think you deserve to know why I abandoned them for so long.”In which Seonghwa moves to the city and encounters a group of boys that changes his life, and Hongjoong learns to heal and love again.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 16
Kudos: 248





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> heyo it's yeon here with my first fic! this has been super fun to write and i hope you like it <3 please stay healthy and hydrated !!  
> shoutout to carol for putting up with me throughout this whole process and for hyping me up when i felt like not writing at all ^____^

When Seonghwa packs up his life in Jinju and moves to Seoul with dreams of opening up his own flourishing cafe, the nondescript empty store that greets him is not what he expects: peeling walls, sticker residue on the windows from the previous owner, and a lovely pile of plastic bags on the floor. Nevertheless, he makes the best of his situation, ordering new wallpaper and furniture and definitely  _ not _ having a mental breakdown at the amount of work that's left to do before opening on his first night in the little apartment above the cafe. 

But the heart and soul that he pours into the cafe pays off, because on opening day he has a steady stream of customers, excited to pop in and post a picture of their drink on social media against the backdrop of aesthetic orange lights. Seonghwa feels proud to say the least: opening his own cafe is a dream he’s been chasing since the first time he visited Seoul. His rose-tinted glasses painted a fantasy of all of the bright lights and inviting exteriors of the restaurants and cafes and shops that lined the busy streets of the city.

After the first week of nonstop work and prep dies down, Seonghwa realizes he still hasn’t introduced himself to his neighbors: he’s seen a figure tending to the flowers of a cozy-looking florist shop, and the unit across from his apartment always seems to have the lights on in the ungodly hours of the night. There are a couple other businesses that line their small street, and in an attempt to make up for his late introduction, he spends an hour after work whipping up a batch of his famous espresso fudge brownies. He can hear his mother in his head scolding him ( _ “The proper greeting when you move in should be a fresh plate of red bean rice cakes!” _ ), but he hopes none of his neighbors are too much of a stickler about traditions and that they like chocolate. 

He’s just in time, because as he crosses the street, the florist seems to be closing up for the day. Seonghwa jogs to get in before the door locks, bowing and thrusting a plate of his brownies in the florist’s direction. The florist seems genuinely happy at the presence of a new neighbor, accepting the brownies and promising to visit the cafe when he has time. The short conversation he shares with the florist teaches him that his name is San and that he’s from the same province as Seonghwa— it’s nice to have a friend he can comfortably speak to, and although San insists on calling him hyung, they’re only a year apart. He stuffs a brownie into his mouth, eyes rolling back and giving Seonghwa a thumbs up and a muffled, “Delicious!” 

Seonghwa has similar successes with the other businesses on the street, from the photography studio to the popular Japanese restaurant owned by a smiley elderly woman who reminds Seonghwa of his own grandmother. A lot of the buildings have their lights shut off, done with business for the day, but Seonghwa has one more stop: the old record shop beneath the seemingly nocturnal tenant across from his own apartment. Like the other shops, the lights are off, but the interior has a dusty blanket over it that doesn’t match the rest of the lively street. Seonghwa leaves a plate of brownies in front of the record shop anyway with a note that reads  _ Just moved into the neighborhood! I run the cafe across the street. Hope you enjoy these brownies I made!  _

For the next few days, Seonghwa immerses himself in work, developing new recipes to keep up with the demand from the amount of new customers that stream in (often invited by the warm exterior and the many posts on various social media platforms singing praises of Seonghwa’s drinks and desserts). He forgets about the brownie run he made for a while, but as he’s closing for the day and locking up the cafe, a glance of white in front of the door makes him pause. It’s odd: Seonghwa’s fairly sure he would have noticed somebody leaving a package at the door. There’s no note of any sort attached, but he recognizes the plate as the one he left behind at the record shop. The shop in question is still dark, and now that Seonghwa thinks about it, he hasn’t seen a day where the lights were on or where there were people in it. But the empty plate makes him reconsider— who was checking the record shop regularly enough that they would take his brownies?

Seonghwa climbs up the stairs to his cozy apartment, setting the empty brownie plate in his sink and dousing it with water and dish soap. It’s a quiet night, and compared to the sounds of customers chatting in the daytime, the faint sounds of cars whizzing by the main road are almost therapeutic. 

After a couple mindless hours and a nap that’s sure to mess up his sleep schedule, he runs through his nighttime routine quickly (although at this point, it’s more of a very early morning routine), eyes flicking to the window. He can see lights on once again in the apartment across from his own, despite the late hour. If Seonghwa squints, he can make out the figure of a man slumped over at a desk, and he can't help but worry about the crick in his neck that the man's sure to have when he wakes up. That night, Seonghwa falls asleep to the comforting sound of bustling life on the street outside and the thought of the man across the street.

When his mom calls for the first time and reminds him of his promise to make new friends in Seoul, Seonghwa sets out to explore the small shops and businesses that share the street with him. He stops by San's flower shop, exchanging numbers with the florist and offering to whip up lunch if he comes by the cafe soon. San makes good on his word, swinging by the cafe the next day right during his lunch break. He and Seonghwa share a simple lunch of chicken mozzarella sandwiches, and Seonghwa learns that San opened his flower shop about two years ago. He means to ask about the record shop and its mysterious aura, but he's distracted from the conversation when a customer walks in asking for a white chocolate eclair, to which Seonghwa apologetically lets them know that they ran out of them just an hour before. When he sits back down with San, the conversation switches to their other neighbors. San says he'll introduce him to his boyfriend and roommate, Wooyoung, who teaches elementary aged kids at the local dance studio, and when Seonghwa does meet him, it's only a matter of time before he's introduced to the rest of their little circle of friends. 

There’s Yunho, who’s a colleague of Wooyoung, and  _ his  _ boyfriend Mingi, who supposedly comes from a wealthy enough family that he can support the two of them and their strangely large apartment without having to work; Jongho, fresh out of high school and working part time at the Japanese restaurant next to the cafe to help fund his university education; Yeosang, who opened his own photography studio a little over a year ago after working on under one of Korea’s most famous fashion photographers.

Seonghwa feels a little like he's overstepping his boundaries, a stranger looking in at a group of friends living their lives. But the others always include him, messaging him to ask if he's free for barbecue that night or to watch a movie in Yunho and Mingi's apartment (it’s the biggest of their homes by a big margin, but somehow it feels smaller when all seven of them are squished on the couch). Watching the others bicker over who gets to choose the movie for the night, Seonghwa feels a blossom of warmth in his chest. He didn’t grow up without friends, but this group is something he's never experienced before— it feels like a family. Seonghwa feels blessed to have been lucky enough to stumble upon their little slice of paradise, and he lets them know how much he appreciates them taking him in. They exchange looks, but the small moment of tension is quickly released by Mingi pulling Seonghwa in a headlock and the rest of the boys cheering. 

But sometimes when all of them gather, it feels  _ incomplete _ — maybe it’s the way that Jongho sets the dinner table for eight instead of seven, or the way that some of the boys’ sentences cut short as if they meant to say something more— it feels like someone is missing. Seonghwa may not be the brightest, but he’s not a fool, and each night he glances at the dusty record shop and the lights that only seem to turn off during the day.

It starts with a plate of espresso chocolate brownies and a mysterious record shop that looks like it hasn’t been open in  _ ages _ . It continues with a slice of tiramisu placed in a box and left in front of the record shop’s door with a note, inviting whoever’s taking the baked goods to come to Seonghwa’s newly opened cafe.

Seonghwa admits that he feels a little ridiculous, dragging a kitchen chair to the window facing the street and spying on the little brown box in front of the door. He doesn’t mean to act like a policeman on stakeout when he knows he can just ask one of the other boys, but it feels like something of a secret— the tension and exchanged glances when even the topic of the record shop is brought up is a box of memories that Seonghwa is wary to open.

That’s how he ends up with a cup of coffee in his hand and an eye across the street. An hour passes with no movement, and Seonghwa’s attention drifts to his phone and the group chat of the seven boys that’s been crazily active: the boys are heatedly discussing what Jongho should wear to his first date with the cute girl in his food science lab. As they settle on simple black jeans and a warm turtleneck, a movement in his peripheral brings his attention back to the record shop, where a man in a denim jacket (it has the words  _ NOW YOU GONNA TAKE ME THERE _ painted across the back in messy white-paint handwriting) picks up the box and heads to the small staircase next to the shop, which Seonghwa suspects leads to the apartment unit above the shop. The man wistfully glances at the dark windows of the shop and at the neon “OPEN” sign that’s been dull for all the days Seonghwa’s been here.

His curiosity eventually gets the better of him, and next time the seven boys gather at the cafe after closing for a taste test of chocolate ganache bars that he’s been developing for the menu, he brings up the man he saw in front of the record shop.

“You know, I’ve been leaving some pastries outside the record shop across the street,” he mentions while Yunho and Wooyoung fight for the last bit of dessert. “I saw someone pick them up and go upstairs to the unit above the shop. Do you… know who he is?”

It’s almost comedic how all the boys freeze, crumbs of chocolate framing Yeosang’s mouth and surprise mirrored in the rest of their faces. They exchange looks with another, engaging in a short but intense conversation with just their eyes, and Wooyoung takes charge, warily putting down his last bite of chocolate. 

“Was he wearing clothes that had paint all over them?” he asks carefully, as if afraid to hear the answer. Seonghwa’s confused nod makes the boys’ eyes widen further. 

“That’s Hongjoong hyung,” Jongho pipes up. “We didn’t know he had come back.”

They quickly fill him in on the story, voices overlapping in an attempt to paint the full picture of what happened before Seonghwa arrived on the street that he now calls home. 

Kim Hongjoong was the first to arrive on the cozy little street, the first to reach out to his new neighbors as they moved in one by one, organizing movie nights and chaotic baking challenges and get-togethers like Seonghwa and the boys have been doing. The boys all seem to read each others’ minds, collectively pausing awkwardly over a part of the story before continuing. They don’t give him all the details, simply saying that Hongjoong had a family emergency that called him back to his hometown. 

He hadn’t told anybody when he would come back, simply leaving a notice on the door of the record shop that it would be closed until further notice and messaging the other boys once to let them know that he had safely arrived in his hometown. The shop had sat collecting dust since then, and it was no wonder that the boys had acted like they’d seen a ghost when Seonghwa brought up the topic— he could see the hurt in each of his friends’ faces that Hongjoong hadn’t let any of them know of his return. It’s a bit confusing, because this means that none of the boys saw the lights in Hongjoong’s apartment that had captured Seonghwa’s attention for so long— but Seonghwa remembers that the lights are only lit at around 2 or 3 A.M. each night, and that Seonghwa’s apartment is the only one that faces the record shop. 

The tension in the room seems thick enough to slice through, and although Seonghwa is sorry that he had brought up such a heavy topic, he is relieved to get some closure about what was up with the mysterious record shop. But the conversation brought more questions than answers, and as he lies in bed that night after sending the boys home, he can’t help but wonder— why did Hongjoong continue with the radio silence? What caused him to go home so suddenly, and to come back without any warning?

Although he’s dying to know the answers to his questions, business is booming, and he has to put the almost daily get-togethers with his friends on hold as he balances the sudden influx of new customers and the demand to keep up with putting pastries on the shelves. Yewon, the part-time cashier that Seonghwa hired after realizing that his one-man show was inefficient, graciously puts in a few more hours each week to keep up. His interactions with his friends are largely limited to weekends and the occasional surprise visit during lunch breaks, and he misses hanging out with them regularly. At first, he’s afraid that bringing up Hongjoong would have messed with their friendship (or that Hongjoong would be mad at Seonghwa for revealing that he was back— he’s still not sure if he was supposed to keep quiet about it or not), but the boys reassure him that they’re attempting to reach out to Hongjoong and that Seonghwa’s not at fault for anything.

The wind chimes above the door sing the arrival of a new customer, and Seonghwa and Yewon both greet the customer with a warm, “Welcome!”; Seonghwa immediately doing a double take when he looks up to see who’s just walked in. Who he assumes is Kim Hongjoong (the reformed hoodie and sweats and glint of silver hair beneath his black baseball cap gives him away) is staring up at the chalkboard menus. Seonghwa whispers to Yewon to clear out for a couple minutes, insisting that he’s got this order. She gives him a weird look but obeys without further questions, and Seonghwa takes Hongjoong’s order of two espresso fudge brownies and a strawberry smoothie (Seonghwa won’t lie, he’s proud that his brownies left an impression). 

Praying he isn’t being too creepy, he hesitantly asks, “Are you Hongjoong?” 

The other man doesn’t seem too fazed that Seonghwa knows his name, and hums in affirmation. “You’re Seonghwa? San and Wooyoung and the others won’t shut up about you.”

The boys did tell him that they had staged an intervention with Hongjoong, but it’s nice to hear confirmation after the initial conversation where Seonghwa had worried about ruining his newfound friendships with the boys. 

Seonghwa grins, triumphant in finally interacting with the mystery man. “All good things, I hope,” he replies, swiping Hongjoong’s card and handing it back to him. “I hope you enjoyed the desserts I left for you,” he adds on. Hongjoong nods, thanking him and quickly vacating his spot for the next customer waiting in line. 

He’s a little disappointed at the short interaction, but it  _ is  _ business hours, and the small conversation with Hongjoong leaves him even more curious. That day, Hongjoong leaves with a small box of his brownies and a chewy chocolate chip cookie that Seonghwa had snuck in as well (Seonghwa convinces himself that it’s okay, that he gives the other boys on-the-house treats when they visit as well). 

The next time Seonghwa gets a message calling him over to Yunho and Mingi’s apartment, he’s surprised to see seven figures sitting on the couch already— the addition of the silver-haired man is strangely natural, as if he had been with them since the beginning (Seonghwa supposes he  _ has  _ been, and  _ Seonghwa _ is the outlier). It’s easy to spot the subtle differences in the boys’ behaviors when Hongjoong is around, the way the smiles that are just a little bit wider and their voices become a little softer when they talk to Hongjoong. He brings out the best parts of each of their group, and Seonghwa begins to see just how much the others had missed their friend. 

For the most part, life returns to normal. Early mornings prepping and baking for the cafe, late nights drinking with his friends— Seonghwa takes a moment to step back and relish in the pure  _ happiness  _ he’s been lucky enough to experience since moving up to Seoul.

But sprinkled among the bliss-filled moments— and despite how hard he tries to hide it— Seonghwa can see the sadness in Hongjoong’s eyes. It’s never there around the other boys, but when Seonghwa walks into San’s kitchen to grab a glass of water during a movie night, he’s surprised to see Hongjoong standing at the sink, white knuckles gripping the edge. Hongjoong looks up and quickly swipes at his eyes, pasting a smile on his face. The motherly instinct in Seonghwa screams at him to ask what’s wrong, but he simply grabs a cup and tentatively smiles at Hongjoong, letting him know that Seonghwa’s there for Hongjoong if he ever needs it. 

That moment in San’s tiny kitchen flips a switch in Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s relationship. They’re just small differences, but Seonghwa basks in the feeling of mutual  _ knowing  _ and trust despite the short time they’ve known each other— the small awkward smiles exchanged over the grill while the other boys devour order after order of marinated beef, the extra pastries that Seonghwa slips into Hongjoong’s orders each time he visits the cafe— and what used to be gatherings of seven quickly shifts to eight. 

Life carries on, and one day Seonghwa is pleasantly surprised to see the long-dull “OPEN” sign in the window of the record shop lit up with fluorescent colors. The lights are on, and Seonghwa can see the unmistakable figure of Hongjoong sweeping the floor of the shop. It’s a cloudless day, and the sun shining through bodes well for the week to come.

That night, he and Hongjoong sit in Seonghwa’s kitchen, sharing a bowl of popcorn and drinking cans of shitty convenience store beer in silence. 

“You can ask,” Hongjoong speaks up. “I know you’ve been wanting to ask.”

Seonghwa chokes on his gulp of beer, watching Hongjoong pop another handful of microwaved popcorn into his mouth. “You— You’d be willing to tell me?” he asks carefully.

Hongjoong laughs with no real joy. “It’s been what— a month and a half since you joined our little group? I think you deserve to know why I abandoned them for so long.”

He wants to protest that neither he nor the boys ever believed that Hongjoong had abandoned them, but what slips out instead is, “Why didn’t you tell them you were back?”

Hongjoong’s brows furrow in surprise. “I thought you’d ask why I left in the first place,” he mutters, fidgeting with the bowl of popcorn between them. “I guess I should have known better than to assume things about you.

“When what happened… happened, I went back to Anyang to process. The others know why I left, but spending time away from the busy city made me reevaluate.” Hongjoong looks like he’s on the verge of tears, and Seonghwa wants to tell him that he doesn’t have to tell him what he’s not comfortable saying yet, but he solders on.

“In the grand scheme of things, I was too selfish,” he pleads, looking up with broken eyes pleading Seonghwa to believe him. “I wanted to just exist without worrying about other people. I knew it would hurt the others to come back and hide, but I needed time for myself.”

The glimmer of unshed tears in Hongjoong’s eyes terrifies Seonghwa— he’s not sure what he’s about to hear. The unasked and unanswered question hangs over both their heads, a heavy weight on their shoulders.  _ What happened? _

He swipes the back of his hand against his eyes. “I had a boyfriend,” Hongjoong admits, and Seonghwa thinks of all the possibilities that can follow that statement: A bad breakup? A cheating ex?

“It’s been four months since he passed away,” Hongjoong whispers, and oh.  _ Oh _ . 

Seonghwa’s heart aches for the young man sitting across from him. The next words tumble out of Hongjoong’s mouth, too quick and full of raw emotion. “We opened the record shop together. He moved back to Anyang to support his family, and I stayed here— we were long distance for a year. The best year of my life.

“They told me a drunk driver hit him on his way to the bus station. He was supposed to visit for the weekend.” He sucks in a breath. “It was for our second anniversary.”

Hongjoong looks away, tears falling freely. Something squeezes in Seonghwa's chest, and he has to fight down the urge to reach over and wipe the drops off of Hongjoong's cheeks before they fall onto his tattered jeans. 

_ It's not your fault. You know that, right? _

“Anyang reminded me so much of  _ him _ , I could barely get myself to go out of the house once every couple of days. I was afraid that coming back here would mean more questions from the boys— I wasn’t ready to face that,” he continues, fighting for control of his voice. “But I couldn’t stay in Anyang anymore. It was suffocating. So… I packed up and returned. I was too cowardly to tell my friends that I’d come back.” 

“ _ No _ ,” Seonghwa cuts in vehemently. “You had every right to want time for yourself— it was only right that you put your own mental health first.” 

Hongjoong’s shoulders shake and he takes in gulping breaths of air. He looks so small, so frail like this, unlike when San had teased him about his height and Hongjoong had laughed it off by kneeing him in the shins. He’s seen Hongjoong like this at the kitchen sink with a storm brewing in his eyes, little moments stolen amongst heaps of happiness.

Seonghwa's heart twists painfully with pity and something he can't identify, but he pushes it all down in favor of handing Hongjoong a tissue box and giving him the moment to collect himself.

“Have you spoken to the others about this yet?” 

“Just you,” Hongjoong whispers. 

_ Just me _ . 

The beers and popcorn sit forgotten on the table, and Seonghwa’s heart breaks for this man who had been carrying the burden of Atlas on his shoulders for four months, who had been so ruthlessly torn from laughter and smiles and left to mourn in loneliness, who had faced the world with a smile even though it didn’t return the favor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is some cute fluff to make up for the angst of last chapter !! one more chapter and we're done AAAA hope you like it <3 please let me know what you think of it hehe

Seonghwa naturally becomes a constant in the lives of the seven other boys, and he’s there to witness the ups and downs— from the way Yeosang pulls him aside one day and asks if he’s willing to substitute for a model who pulled out of a project last minute (Seonghwa says yes, of course, and despite how awkward he is in front of a camera, it’s worth it to see the spark and passion in Yeosang’s eyes when he’s fully focused on his job) to the night when Hongjoong confesses to the other boys with a heavy heart and apologizes for not confiding in them right away.

(For the most part, the boys’ anger is fleeting; half-hearted yelling followed by severe clinging to make clear to Hongjoong that he can never leave them again. Seonghwa’s surprised by the lingering anger in Yeosang’s calm features, lips flattening, but his shaky voice once again shows that despite understanding  _ why  _ Hongjoong made these choices, he’s hurt by them. Seonghwa plays the role of mediator between the two during their heated conversation, after which Yeosang and Hongjoong both end up in tears but with their bond strengthened even further.)

But overall, the conversation goes smoother than Seonghwa expects, and it’s worlds away from what Hongjoong was imaging, from what he confesses to Seonghwa over another late night of drinks cooped up in Seonghwa’s small apartment (it’s become somewhat routine now, and although Seonghwa is the newest to befriend their group, he’s the only one the same age as Hongjoong, and he’s someone that Hnogjoong can confide in without being afraid of burdening the younger ones). In his mind, Seonghwa had been imagining a huge blowout of anger directed at Hongjoong, but he quickly realizes that he’s underestimated the bond that this special group has. 

And before he knows it, it’s been eight months since he’s moved to Seoul, and all of a sudden there’s snow in the air and Christmas lights adorning all the shops. Kids tug their parents’ arms, pleading for them to purchase one of the frosted holiday-themed cookies displayed in the cafe’s window. 

Except for the occasional phone call back home, it’s been ages since he’s had time to catch up with his parents. Seonghwa and the others count down the days leading up to Christmas Eve on a fill-your-own advent calendar they had purchased and stuffed with treats, and when the day finally comes, he tapes a sign in the cafe’s window that he will be taking a break for the holidays and locks the doors. But as he lugs his suitcase full of gifts down from his apartment to the taxi that’s waiting for him in front of the cafe, there’s not one but  _ two  _ KTX tickets bound for Jinju clenched in his fist. 

(“Can I come home with you for Christmas?” Hongjoong asks softly.

Seonghwa looks up from the castella batter he’s been stirring in surprise. “What about your family?”

“I’d rather not go back yet,” he admits, and understanding clears in Seonghwa’s eyes. Even then, it doesn’t make sense that Hongjoong would want to spend the holidays with someone he’s known for far less time than the other boys. When he asks Hongjoong about it, he says that he wouldn’t want to third wheel the happy San/Wooyoung and Yunho/Mingi couples; Jongho is going on a retreat with his college friends; and Yeosang is already in America visiting family. “It— it’s totally fine if you want to spend time with your family alone,” he tacks on hurriedly.

“I’m sure they’d love to meet you,” Seonghwa reassures, pouring the thick batter into a bread pan and sliding it in the oven.)

It’s true— when the pair finally arrive in front of Seonghwa’s childhood apartment, his mother is ecstatic to see him bring a friend along. They quickly shove their bags into Seonghwa’s old room and sit at the table for lunch; it’s been a long train ride from Seoul and the smell of rice cake dumpling soup makes their stomachs growl in hunger. 

Jinju is the town that Seonghwa grew up in and it’s nothing new, but coming back after six busy months in Seoul leads Seonghwa to see the city in a new light. He’s itching to go outside and explore the streets of his childhood, but his mom sends him and his brother out along with Hongjoong with a page-long grocery list for the grand feast that’s planned to be Christmas dinner the next day. Seonghwa’s apologetic that Hongjoong has traveled all this way to be sent on errands, but Hongjoong insists that it’s fine, eagerly taking in Jinju’s calm scenery.

They stop by the local supermarket first, filling their shopping cart with items scrawled onto their grocery list in Seonghwa’s mom’s hasty handwriting. During elementary school, he and his brother had always tagged along with their mom when she went grocery shopping, and the same kind lady who manned the register so many years ago is scanning their groceries today. She presses a lollipop into each of the boys’ hands, just like she used to do when Seonghwa was nine years old and running all over the place, and takes a few minutes to gush over how big he’s gotten. 

The rest of their errand time is short and sweet, Seonghwa marveling at how much Jinju has changed in the six short months he’s been gone. What used to be the PC café that he and his brother would frequent during middle school has been demolished and replaced by a branch of a skincare shop that Seonghwa’s seen many times in Seoul as well; the convenience store where he would blow all of his allowance on ice cream is vacated, just bare bones of a structure left behind. 

After dropping their groceries off at the apartment in exchange for a warm hug from Seonghwa’s mom, his brother announces that he has plans with a friend, leaving Hongjoong and Seonghwa alone. The pair is still restless from the three hours they had to sit still on the KTX from Seoul to Jinju, and Seonghwa’s mom quickly shoos them out of the house, telling them to go explore.

Seonghwa points out all the small memories and landmarks on the short walk to the subway station, where they scan their transportation cards and barely make it in time to slip through the closing doors of the subway. It’s just a couple stops until they reach the Nam River, and the park in front of the water looks just as it had when Seonghwa left— to be fair, he hasn’t had a proper outing to the Nam River since he was in middle school and his friends threw him a surprise birthday party at the park.

He and Hongjoong sit on the concrete steps that face the river, each holding a piping hot red bean and walnut pastry in their hands. “It’s so weird to see you surrounded by your childhood,” Hongjoong pipes up, warm breath visible against the cold air. “I’ve only seen you as the authoritative hyung, but here you’re the baby of the household.”

Seonghwa lets out an indignant  _ hey! _ , but there’s no real bite to either of the words. It’s something that’s been on Seonghwa’s mind for a while: in Jinju, he was always the youngest of the family; in Seoul, he’s the oldest and somehow responsible for the seven rowdy younger men. Hongjoong’s been a breath of fresh air; they’re mere months older than the others, but it seems like years that separate them. And the more time he spends with Hongjoong, the more grateful he is that he trusted Seonghwa enough to follow him home for the holidays. More than anything, Seonghwa prays that Hongjoong can use this time to heal. It’s a break from their life in the city, and hopefully the change of scenery will be good for him.

At the same time, it’s not a topic that Seonghwa can relate much to: most of Seonghwa’s relationships throughout high school and university have been rather short-lived (Seonghwa thinks back to the last boy he brought home— his boyfriend had dumped him the week after with no warning only to get together with the barista of the local coffee shop. He remembers coming home crying that weekend, seeking the comfort of his family. His brother had been wary of anybody Seonghwa’s expressed interest in since then, and Seonghwa knows that he’s been eyeing Hongjoong suspiciously).

The sky is starting to show streaks of purple and pink when the pair wraps up their conversation and heads back to the apartment, and Hongjoong gestures for Seonghwa to join his mom in the kitchen. “I should call my parents too,” he explains, but Seonghwa knows that Hongjoong is clearing out partly so he has time to catch up with his mom. 

Seonghwa’s mom gives him a knowing look as he enters the kitchen, washing his hands and grabbing a cutting board, working seamlessly next to his mom to prep for dinner. She takes a moment to lean against the counter, watching him with curious eyes. 

“So… you and that boy?” She cackles at the indignant yelp that leaps up Seonghwa’s throat.

“ _ Mom! _ ” he hisses. “We’re just friends!” She turns back to her own cutting board with a grin on her face, and Seonghwa knows that nothing he says will convince her that he and Hongjoong are strictly platonic. 

Throughout dinner, his mom sneaks pointed glances at him, and Seonghwa can feel his ears burning through the laughter that carries across the table. The food is just as delicious as lunch had been, and between bites Hongjoong whispers to him, “How is Christmas dinner supposed to top this?”

Seonghwa’s mom overhears him and beams, gushing over how nice-mannered Hongjoong is, and to Seonghwa’s mortification, she begins to bring up his past choices of boys. “Hongjoong, you’re so sweet, I’m so glad Seonghwa brought you along! There was this one boy who had the worst tables manners— goodness, you’d think he was raised in a barn! I don’t know what you saw in him, Seonghwa dear,” she says plainly, reaching across the table for another slice of kimchi pancake.

“And don’t even get me started on that one young lady who always made Seonghwa clean every corner of her dorm room! What, did she think a boyfriend was supposed to be a personal maid? When Seonghwa told us he was gay, I was surprised, but after seeing how this girl acted, I couldn’t blame him!” 

Seonghwa complains loudly, drowned out by the laughter of his family sitting around the table. Hongjoong raises an eyebrow at Seonghwa, to which he just lets out a sigh. To his relief, the conversation shifts to something more tame, and when all their bowls are scraped empty, Hongjoong insists that he help do the dishes. Seonghwa’s mom vehemently rejects him, of course, but she allows him to help Seonghwa unload the dishwasher. Their bellies are full and it’s one of the best Christmas Eves that Seonghwa has had in a while.

It’s been a long day traveling across the country and exploring Jinju, but Seonghwa and Hongjoong lie awake (Seonghwa’s on the thin blanket sprawled on the floor, hard-earned after insisting that he sleeps better on the floor than on too soft of a mattress. Hongjoong still glares, uncomfortable with stealing the bed, but Seonghwa’s mind is already set). After twenty minutes in silence, they end up sneaking out to the kitchen around midnight in a strange parallel to the many nights of relaxed conversations in Seonghwa’s apartment in Seoul.

Seonghwa feels like a child, sneaking around and trying not to wake his parents up, and he and Hongjoong end up climbing the stairs to reach the rooftop of the apartment. It’s sparsely decorated with twinkling Christmas lights and it’s freezing cold, but the pair both have steaming mugs of hot chocolate in their hands and lug a couple blankets up to keep them warm. The two boys sit huddled on top of the wooden slab that acts as a makeshift table-slash-bench, gazing out at a town half asleep and half awake. 

“Merry Christmas.” Hongjoong grins at Seonghwa as he cups the mug in his hands.

He and Hongjoong had spent the morning rosy-cheeked and laughing as they stumbled across the ice of the local skating rink, surrounded by younger kids racing past. They try to detach themselves from the surrounding wall but fail, flailing their arms in vain. Surprisingly, they even run into one of Seonghwa’s old childhood friends, who pats him on the back and proclaims to practically the whole rink that he’s proud of Seonghwa for making a living in Seoul. Seonghwa blushes and skates away as fast as he can, with Hongjoong nagging him about it later.

“He wasn’t even a close friend!” Seonghwa insists. “He just wants to look like he knew me now that I’m doing well in a career that I love.” He’s fairly sure that the other boy is still cooped up at his parents’ house, wasting his days away at the PC cafe.

They eat lunch at a restaurant that’s owned by the family of one of Seonghwa’s close friends from high school, and he spends far too long sitting in front of a tray of cooling tteokbokki, catching up with the sweet old couple, who remarks that it’s a shame their son isn’t home for the holidays. Seonghwa makes sure to leave a message for his friend, who he’s lost contact with since graduating.

Hongjoong remarks that Seonghwa must have been popular when he was in high school. It’s not entirely wrong, but it’s also a testament to how involved his family was in the neighborhood. Their family knew practically everybody around them, always welcoming new neighbors wholeheartedly and keeping their kimchi fridge stocked with more kimchi than the five of them could ever eat on their own. It also reminds Seonghwa that he hadn’t been the best academic student in school— he was more of the social butterfly.

But his Jinju friends don’t hold a candle to the boys waiting for him back in Seoul, and he tells Hongjoong that, who then responds that he spent most of his time in high school with his earbuds in and kept to himself— he’s fascinated by the different lives that he and Seonghwa have lived. Seonghwa thinks that his own high school life may be a reason he cherishes the seven other boys so much— in high school, the sheer amount of people made it hard to form close bonds with certain people. It was always lots of people but on-the-surface friendships, which makes Seonghwa that much more grateful to be able to experience the vice versa.

Sitting at the dinner table on Christmas, watching his mom dump a heaping spoonful of spicy stir-fried pork onto Hongjoong’s already loaded plate, Seonghwa’s heart swells with love. Dinner is a long ordeal and he and Hongjoong are both stuffed full with delicious home-cooked meals that neither of them have enjoyed in a while— Seonghwa is a decent chef, but the touch of his mom’s cooking always hits a little different. 

His family carries the conversation to the living room for what Seonghwa coins “embarrass-Seonghwa-time” over a plate of juicy peaches and oranges, flipping through old picture albums and cooing over the endless pictures of Seonghwa and his brother growing up. His mom doesn’t hesitate to share the backstory behind each and every picture, and everybody is a little tipsy as they giggle over the ridiculous adventures of their childhood. 

When it’s time to leave for Seoul the next afternoon, Seonghwa’s mom pretends like she isn’t crying, but Seonghwa spots her swiping at her eyes when she thinks he isn’t looking. He makes sure to give her an extra long hug and promises to call more often, squeezing his brother and father tightly as he says goodbye. His mom embraces Hongjoong just as fiercely, telling him that he’s welcome anytime if he wants to tag along with Seonghwa the next time he comes home. Hongjoong beams as he bows goodbye to Seonghwa’s family. 

Sitting in their seats and waving at his family on the platform, Seonghwa can see the soft orange scarf around his mom’s neck that Hongjoong had gifted her for Christmas. It’s a long three hour train ride back to Seoul, but they’re armed with snacks and a paper bag full of side dishes that Seonghwa’s mom packed for them to eat at home. They end up leaving most of the snacks unopened, falling asleep as soon as the train departs, and wake up as the train pulls into Seoul Station. 

The station is busy and overwhelming and everything that Jinju’s not, and Seonghwa is a little sad to step out of the peaceful bubble of Jinju. At the same time, he’s excited to go back to the familiar cafe and see the rest of the boys again. 

Yeosang’s still in America, but the others begin to arrive from their respective families one by one that evening. They decide to wait until Yeosang returns to get together as a full group and throw a late Christmas-slash-New-Year’s party, enjoying a hearty meal of Korean barbecue at their favorite restaurant and then crowding Yunho and Mingi’s apartment to exchange gifts. Mingi brings out multiple packs of beer, and they’re all pleasantly buzzed by the time everyone’s properly situated for gift exchanging. Yeosang, in all his jetlagged glory, groans when the overexcited tipsy Wooyoung screams too loudly, and San snickers at him before passing over the Advil. 

Seonghwa’s haul consists of a new pair of oven mitts (his old ones had become a little bare, burning his fingers through the thin fabric), recipe books, a gift card to Ikea, a mug from Annandale, Virginia (Yeosang had returned with t-shirts and mugs for everybody), and a coupon book of things like “free hug” and “two hours of free labor”. Hongjoong had already given Seonghwa a package when they were in Jinju, a framed picture of the eight of them along with a white apron that has the words “INNER PEACE” painted on the front (Seonghwa opens the package and bursts into laughter; he and Hongjoong had joked around weeks ago about a stupid cartoon they had seen as kids about pent-up anger). Seonghwa had picked out gifts from Jinju’s street markets to give to his friends, and he feels warm inside when they  _ ooh  _ and  _ aah  _ at their presents. 

A couple days later, Wooyoung’s loud voice carries over the rest of their shouts as they count down to New Year’s Day (Seonghwa’s glad that they’re basically the only ones who live in the vicinity of each other). It’s been arguably one of the busiest years of his life, but also the most fun-filled— and the seven boys cheering on the couch make it the most memorable.

Seonghwa enjoys his last days of vacation before he reopens the cafe for the new year, and business picks up again. His life is full of prep work and churning out pastries in the morning, serving drinks and desserts throughout the day, short lunch breaks with whoever’s free to grab a bite to eat, and nights unwinding with the boys. It’s monotonous on the outside, but it’s a precious cycle that Seonghwa feels endless joy in— especially the small moments of  _ living  _ that bring a smile to his face.

His nighttime talks with Hongjoong aren’t as frequent as they were before Christmas, but their friendship is strengthened— the other boys begin to tease them, calling them “mom and dad”, and Hongjoong and Seonghwa take the jokes in stride. It’s strangely accurate, though, how Seonghwa nags at everybody to eat meals and stay hydrated (and the random desserts left outside everybody’s doors, a tradition since the first plate of brownies), and how Hongjoong always does a headcount on their group outings despite the group’s complaints that they aren’t in grade school anymore.

Seonghwa has grand new year’s resolutions to develop his menu further and attract more customers, and more personal ones to work out more and call home more often. But for now, lying in his bed and staring at the ceiling at 1:00 AM (He can’t see from his position, but he’s sure that Hongjoong’s lights are on across from him), he’s content with his little slice of paradise. 


	3. Chapter 3

Seonghwa hates to admit it, but he might be sick. And it’s at the worst possible time, because he hasn’t gotten so much as a fever for the past two years, and suddenly during the peak of spring when all the customers are rushing in, he has to get sick.

But as one of the only two employees of the cafe (and the owner), he can’t afford to take a day off, and he spends the morning miserable with a mask covering his mouth. When Yewon arrives for her shift, she takes one look at Seonghwa and orders him to go sit down for a while (he protests loudly but ends up taking a seat in the break room for a few minutes to catch his breath). 

By the time lunch rolls around, he’s sweating from the lights in the ceiling (were they always that hot?) and he wants to crawl into bed and never get up. But Wooyoung shows up at his door with a bright smile, Yeosang in tow, and a bag of bento boxes in hand, and Seonghwa isn't about to turn him down.

The trio shares a quick meal, with Seonghwa doing his best to hide the light cough stuck in his throat, although he can’t do anything about his flushed face. He can’t help but think Wooyoung and Yeosang are watching him closely, and his suspicious are confirmed when at the end of the day, the front door swings open and Hongjoong storms inside.

“Park Seonghwa!” 

Seonghwa looks up, startled. He winces at the sudden head movement, and Hongjoong goes on. “If you’re sick, you should be resting!”

“I’m not even that sick!” Seonghwa protests, his headache and woozy eyes betraying him. But it’s true— it’s a mild fever, and he can function with no problem— and the cafe wouldn’t be able to run without him.

It’s been a topic of conversation for the two of them sometimes; Hongjoong complains that Seonghwa should hire more part-time workers to relieve his own workload. But Seonghwa enjoys the work he pours into the cafe, and he and Yewon are capable of holding down the fort for now.

But the late nights and early mornings and empty cups of coffee are catching up to him, as evident in his burning face and aching head. “The cafe needs me to open, I can’t just take a day off,” he insists. 

Hongjoong shakes his head, frustration evident in the furrow of his brow. “You can’t just keep working yourself to the bone! When you’re collapsed on the floor and nobody’s here to help— when the cafe needs to close and you’re gone with no backup plan, what are you going to do then?” he exclaims. “What am  _ I  _ going to do?” The last part is muttered under his breath, and Seonghwa isn’t sure he’s heard Hongjoong correctly.

“Listen,” Seonghwa starts hesitantly. “I’ll sleep early tonight and get plenty of rest— but you can’t just ask me to leave the cafe.” 

“At least put up flyers that you’re hiring! Stop relying on just yourself,” Hongjoong begs, and Seonghwa sighs. 

“What, are  _ you _ going to stand at the register in a beret and apron to take orders?”

Hongjoong stands at the register, sporting a beret and taking orders (some of the cafe’s regulars greet him excitedly, welcoming him to the staff). Seonghwa won’t lie, it’s amusing to watch Hongjoong enthusiastically arrange pastries on display trays and portion batter into muffin tins and put on his best customer service voice when working the register. 

Although Seonghwa insists that he’s all healed and healthy, Hongjoong insists on taking a few more shifts in the following days. But Seonghwa can’t complain— he’s grateful that Hongjoong would be willing to put in a couple shifts at the cafe for his own well-being.

Working with Hongjoong through the cold he had nursed for a couple days was the highlight of his work day— and after a little less than a week of laughter and joking in the kitchen, it’s no wonder that things immediately go to shit once Hongjoong walks out of the cafe after his final shift (he says final, but Seonghwa wouldn’t be surprised to see Hongjoong show up at the door tomorrow morning).

Seonghwa chuckles as his attention turns back to the customer in front of him, who he assumes is the last customer of the day— they close in around ten minutes. 

Their shelves are bare of pastries at the end of the day, and Seonghwa is shocked to hear the request that comes from the man’s mouth— he wants a party platter of 30 fruit and cream pastries. He does a double take, because it’s nearly nine o’clock at night and the cafe usually only makes drinks closer to closing time. The cafe’s also nearly out of every pastry on the shelves— let alone fresh fruit pastries. 

He politely lets the customer know that platters of that size need to be called in ahead of time, and that he can’t complete the order as they close soon.

When the man demands that Seonghwa make him the pastries right now, the smile on Seonghwa’s face is plastered on with all his effort, and he repeats what he’s just said to the man, asking him to call in tomorrow if he’d like the platter the next morning.

His smile turns uncomfortable as the man refuses to leave the shop, and Seonghwa’s heart is racing inside— he hasn’t handled a rude customer in a while, and his passive nature keeps him from yelling at the man to leave (of course, the fact that it’s so close to closing and Seonghwa’s tired doesn’t help). 

The man takes a threatening step towards the register, to which Seonghwa steps back, alarmed. “Sir, you’re disturbing our business. I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he says calmly, palms clammy and panic bubbling in his throat.

“ _ Leave? _ ” the man booms, and Seonghwa flinches— the man falters at the sound of the doorbell tinkling, and a wave of relief hits Seonghwa to see Hongjoong stroll in.

“Sorry, I forgot my jacket—” Hongjoong freezes, taking in the scene he’s just walked in on. Seonghwa can only imagine what it looks like, a large man threateningly wavering over Seonghwa, who’s visibly flinching.

Hongjoong’s eyes narrow. “Is there a problem here?” The sweet and kind Hongjoong that Seonghwa’s used to is gone, no trace of his usual voice in the cold words directed at the rude customer.

“Mind ya’ own business,” the man says gruffly, turning his back on Hongjoong in clear dismissal.

Hongjoong is making his way over to the register when the man swings his hand up, stepping closer to Seonghwa— before he can blink, the man is on the floor, Hongjoong’s fist connecting with his face (despite Hongjoong’s lithe frame, he packs quite a punch).

Seonghwa’s frozen, staring in horror as he watched Hongjoong roughly push the man towards the door. The man glares back at the pair while he nurses the side of his face, stumbling out of the cafe.

Immediately, Hongjoong’s cold expression melts into concern as he rushes to Seonghwa’s side. “Did he hurt you? Are you okay?” he asks, hand ghosting over Seonghwa’s face, trying to find any trace of injury. 

Seonghwa snaps out of it. “Are you crazy?” he hisses, leaning away from Hongjoong’s touch. “Why would you punch a customer?” 

His expression falls. “I— he was going to  _ slap  _ you!” There’s incredulity in his voice, and Seonghwa shakes his head, head clouded with irrational anger.

“You should have  _ let  _ him!” 

Hongjoong stares, stunned. 

“What if he presses charges? What if he sues the cafe?” Seonghwa presses on. “What if we have to close?” His mind runs through the worst case scenarios, and it’s hard to see past his immediate thoughts— rationally, he knows Hongjoong was acting in his best interest, but all he can see is the legal problems that could crush his cafe.

Hongjoong bites his lip, confusion clouding his expression, but his voice stays soft, like he’s talking to a wounded animal. “I was just trying to protect you.”

“Protect me from  _ what _ ?” Seonghwa seethes, and he can hear his own voice rising. Something in the back of his mind tells him to calm down, that Hongjoong was just trying to help and he’s being unreasonable, but it’s overpowered by the pounding of his chest in his ears. “I’m the same age as you! I’m an adult, I don’t need a fucking  _ babysitter _ ! It’s not like you’re my boyfriend!”

Hongjoong reels and steps away as if he’s the one that’s just been punched. Seonghwa’s eyes widen, realizing what he’s just said. He’s never been particularly good with words— leave it to his anger-clouded mind to say the absolute worst thing.

Hurt fills Hongjoong’s eyes, and even as Seonghwa tries to speak, he shakes his head. 

“No— I’m not,” he says slowly, and his voice doesn’t even have any anger— just sadness. He turns and moves for the exit, his jacket forgotten. “You’re right. This is my fault. I’m sorry.” 

Seonghwa watches helplessly as Hongjoong reaches for the door, knowing he’s said something he can’t repair— and he curses himself as he slumps into the nearest chair, head in his hands.

Seonghwa stress bakes.

It’s a habit that he’s had since it was younger, when he would have a bad day at school and his mom would come home to trays full of castellas and cookies strewn across their kitchen. And since his job is in a kitchen now, he has the means to continue stress baking. 

The others have definitely noticed— when the free baked goods begin piling up in everybody’s homes, they decide that it’s time for an intervention. They crowd into Seonghwa’s small apartment, speaking in turn as if reading from a script.

“Something’s not right,” Jongho declares. Seonghwa laughs weakly, because that’s the understatement of the century.

He and Hongjoong have been avoiding each other for days, with Seonghwa pointedly ignoring the view of the other boy’s apartment that’s too clear from his own window. And this isn’t the situation he wants, either— when he thinks back to that night, he wants to punch his past self for being so impulsive. 

“We didn’t want to pry too much into your business, but seriously, what’s up?” Yunho says, his serious demeanor a complete 180 from the usual hyper personality that he’s used to. Maybe it’s a sign of how serious the situation is. 

To his own horror and everybody else’s, the dam breaks and the flood comes rushing through. His head drops, and for a second the others think he’s just upset— but then they see the telltale glint of tears sliding down his face. 

Immediately, the tough demeanor of the boys in interrogation mode melts, and they huddle around Seonghwa, hugging him so tightly that he thinks his ribs are going to crack.

He smiles through the tears, hating that he’s broken down completely, but his apologies are drowned out by the others reassuring him that he can cry, and so he does, shoulders shaking and the guilt of the past couple days crashing onto his shoulders.

It’s a couple hours later, surrounded by the six boys sprawled across his living room, that Yeosang speaks up. “Hyung,” he says quietly over the snoring of Jongho in the background. “Hongjoong hyung is hurting just as much as you are. I don’t know what happened, but I know you need to speak to him.” His eyes are serious, and Seonghwa understands the unspoken message in Yeosang’s words.  _ Don’t fuck up. Don’t hurt him again. _

And Seonghwa  _ knows _ — he doesn’t want to hurt Hongjoong further, he’s afraid that he’ll say something he doesn’t mean again, and he’s more scared that he’ll ruin their relationship beyond salvation (although this current shaky standing isn’t much better). 

He’s scared and wary of the thousands of ways this can go wrong. But his stress is bleeding into his work life, where he finds himself forgetting one or two steps in familiar recipes. After the first few batches where his customers return food and complain about the taste, Seonghwa snaps out of his Hongjoong-induced daze.

The tall door to Hongjoong’s apartment, while familiar, looks more intimidating than it ever has before. Seonghwa raises his hand to knock but lowers it, heart racing. He takes a deep breath and hovers his hand in front of the door again— and nearly screams when the door opens unprompted.

He and Hongjoong make eye contact, and for a moment nothing around them exists— it’s just the two of them staring at each other. Hongjoong looks like he hasn’t slept in days, eyes rimmed red and hair messily peeking out of the sides of a black baseball cap. It surprises Seonghwa just how haphazard Hongjoong looks—  _ he’s  _ not the one who ruined their relationship. Seonghwa imagines he doesn’t look much better; the stress and guilt have been eating away at him.

“What are you doing here?” Hongjoong whispers, eyes fixed on Seonghwa as if he’ll disappear when he looks away.

Seonghwa gulps. “I’m so sorry.” His eyes hold sadness rather than relief at his apology, and the guilt is so strong that it threatens to overwhelm Seonghwa. “I messed up,” he rushes on. “I wasn’t thinking straight— it wasn’t an excuse for me to say what I said. I just panicked in the moment— I thought I’d lose the shop—”

Hongjoong sighs in defeat. 

“I didn’t mean it.” He locks eyes with Hongjoong once again, palms cold with sweat.

“I overreacted too,” Hongjoong admits, scratching the back of his neck. “It was just… something I didn’t expect to hear.” Hongjoong could have said anything else and it wouldn’t have hurt Seonghwa as much— he  _ knows  _ his mistake.

“I shouldn’t have said you weren’t my boyfriend. That was messed up of me.”

“I kind of wished it was true, though.” 

Seonghwa’s head snaps up. He’s not sure if he’s heard Hongjoong right. “What?”

It’s Hongjoong’s turn to look horrified as his mouth betrays his brain, like the words slipped out without thinking. Confusion blossoms in Seonghwa’s expression, and he watches in what seems like slow motion as Hongjoong stumbles a step backwards and slams the door in his face. 

Seonghwa’s left alone outside the apartment, still reeling at what Hongjoong just said. He’s snapped out of his daze when he hears the muffled scream of somebody inside the apartment (he’s not sure, but it sounds awfully a lot like if somebody was screaming into a pillow). A small smile creeps on his face, Hongjoong’s words finally clicking, and he frantically knocks at Hongjoong’s door.

The yelling stops.

The door slowly opens, and Hongjoong appears, ears redder than ever and avoiding eye contact with Seonghwa. His mouth opens, perhaps trying to find an excuse or denial— he’s cut off by Seonghwa leaning forward and gently pressing his lips to Hongjoong’s.

“ _ What? _ ” San demands, the first to speak among a row of six shell-shocked boys sitting on the couch. “So you two fought and magically made up and what— now you’re  _ dating _ ?”

“Hyung, this isn’t what I meant by telling you to speak with him!” Yeosang whispers at Seonghwa, who elbows him playfully and beams. 

Jongho suddenly leaps up and lets out a celebratory whoop, and it’s like the seal has popped of a bottle of tension and anticipation. The atmosphere turns festive and cheerful, although Seonghwa doesn’t miss the look Yeosang sends him that clearly says  _ You’re not off the hook. We’ll talk later.  _   


He ignores it in favor of Wooyoung, who crawls his way into Seonghwa’s lap, peers up at him through fluttering eyelashes, and sweetly asks, “Did you guys have makeup sex?” 

Seonghwa throws him into the table. Mingi cheers him on. 

It’s definitely a change from their usual group dinners, where instead of sharing stories about work and Jongho complaining about school, it’s San and Wooyoung making snarky sex comments and Yeosang interrogating them with relationship trivia off of Buzzfeed. When the occasional joke referring to Seonghwa and Hongjoong as “mom and dad” comes up, the other boys giggle like they’re in grade school again, and Jongho starts singing some stupid love ballad that involves dramatic hand flailing and Yunho waving his phone flashlight like he’s at a concert.

(The others spot Seonghwa and Hongjoong shyly holding hands and they yell “Gross!!,” shoving each other in laughter— Seonghwa would like to protest that their resident couples Yunho and Mingi & San and Wooyoung have done much worse in front of them, but he bites back the words in favor of pecking Hongjoong’s cheek when he thinks nobody’s looking.)

It’s a night of celebration, and it feels like a weight has lifted off Seonghwa’s shoulders. Of course, he didn’t expect his friends to reject his relationship with Hongjoong, but it was nerve-wracking nonetheless: the whole dinner had a strange meet-your-parents vibe to it. 

When they all stand up to retire to their respective homes, it’s almost comical how half of the boys pull Seonghwa to the side (if he cranes his neck around Yunho’s tall figure, he can see the remaining half cornering Hongjoong) and threaten to shatter all of his cups and plates if he ever hurts Hongjoong.

Seonghwa laughs, reassuring them that he’s more worried about them accidentally dropping the plates than him hurting Hongjoong.

He manages to steal a short kiss from Hongjoong before waving at him and climbing the stairs to his own apartment, heart content and full of love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and it's over! this was a pretty quick fic and was just something for me to ease back into writing after a year or so of no writing at all .. i didn't expect much from this fic but i'm pretty satisfied with how it turned out. thanks for reading! <3


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